Introduction
Set
in early Saxon times when ploughing began in Solmonath (February) we
know from ‘The Rights of Various People’ that workers had the
right to a drinking feast in return for their obligation to a days
ploughing on the Lord's land.
Plough
teams had one, two or eight oxen. In the case of a two oxen team the
oxen would have had names that they could easily recognise,
traditionally a one syllable name and a two syllable name (here
Nimble walking in the farrow and Quick walking on the turf).
Field
sizes were set in very practical ways: the length that the oxen could
work before needing a break set the length, this was called a 'furrow
long' which became the furlong. The width of a field was determined
by what a plough team could plough in a day this is known as a rod or
a chain. The area of this field became known as an acre.
Ploughing
started at the centre end of the field and progressed back and forth
in a spiral fashion moving clockwise turning the sods to the right,
in this way over the years the fields developed a camber which often
still shows on our landscape.
Nerthus
was the Earth goddess as noted by Saint Bede. Note in later Saxon
times she was replaced by Frigg.
Ploughing
was hard work requiring strength to control the plough, Elf-schot
refers to 'a sudden sharp pain caused by the influence of elves'
Drinking
Feast
In
cold Solmonath, we return to mead,
Oxen
in frosty, crisp morning to lead.
To
plough the cold land, to sow the corn seed,
To
the lord's first field, fulfilling our deed.
When
sun he upgoeth, we bless the ploughshare,
God
speed the plough team, let naught us impair.
We
three men tilleth, Nerthus in her earth,
For
the livelihood, of all men's worth.
We
two men a ploughing, a lad sowing corn,
Two
oxen a pulling, on a misty morn.
I
am a leading, Aelfric guides the plough,
Elf-schot
in the back, if thee don’t know how.
Raising
the mouldboard, at end furrow long,
Changing
our places, thee need to stay strong.
Nimble
in furrow, and Quick on the turf,
Pulling
heavy plough, for all of their worth.
Walking
the furlong, sun wise straight and fine,
Strong
oxen to rest, at end of the line.
With
turf on the left, and sod on the right,
Ploughing
all long day, before it is night.
That
sacred point when, day and night divide,
Put
away the plough, its ale drinking tide.
After
the plough day, and thrusting our shaft,
On
eve of morrow, we quaff the strong draught.
Bring
us more good ale, we'll raise our great horn,
Up
with pointy end, drink to Barleycorn.
Made
from best barely, we down it with glee,
Lift
up thine tankards, wassail unto thee.
Copyright
Andrew Rea May 2016
See
also 'The Corn Dolly':
and
Solmonath:
http://newanglo-saxonpoetry.blogspot.co.uk/2013/02/february-solmonath.html
